


Old Friend

by cryptidgoose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidgoose/pseuds/cryptidgoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say friendships lasts forever. Even till the day you die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friend

Chris Argent had never been afraid of death. Not really. Not his own, at least. The death of innocents he always feared, but his own seemed irrelevant, the punchline of the joke that was life. 

The Alpha pack posed a serious problem, extremely dangerous and almost impossible to kill. Between the Hunters and the Hale pack. they downed three but that still left at least four and the body count kept rising, the casualties to every side growing worse. 

Chris was alone. His entire team had been massacred. A trap. Humans couldn’t smell wolf, no one knew that when they found evidence of a werewolf pack that it was left for them. 

Chris could guess. He was suspicious, but he was getting desperate and he had had no choice but to respond to the first clear lead they had on the Alpha pack. He’d just hoped that his Hunters could understand that it was likely a trap and they could fight.

He was wrong and he was going to pay for it.

They were running him down through the woods. He’d downed at least one, maybe two with a wolfsbane bullet, but even now he was running low. They were following close behind, but he knew that they were taking it slow. They didn’t have to rush. He couldn’t get back to his car. He couldn’t get back to town. He couldn’t risk leading them to Allison or any other innocents. 

He was bleeding out. He wasn’t going to make it very far.

Checking his remaining ammo, he grimaced. Two bullets. He could go out with a fight, or turn his gun on himself. Chris shook his head and replaced his clip. No way was he going to risk wasting a shot on himself when he could just ensure another two more dead Alphas.

They sensed he was growing close to his death and they closed in. His shots were off, though he tried hard not to shake but the blood loss gave him little choice. Nevertheless, with wolfsbane bullets, hitting them in the arm or leg wasn’t half bad and he smiled to himself as the two fell. 

There were two left, growling at him threateningly and he tossed his gun to the side, muscles stiffening as tight as they could in the state he was in. 

Suddenly, there was a loud howling and Chris was being literally slammed into the ground, a roar echoing through the expanse and forcing the Hunter to cover his ears. The Alphas growled back, angry at the predator encroaching on their prey. 

Eyes opening, Chris struggled against the body pinning him down. “Don’t move,” the other werewolf growled. Chris froze, his heart falling into his stomach at the familiar voice.

Peter Hale roared at the Alphas again and for whatever reason, with a resigning howl, they gave up the chase and dragged their wounded away leaving Peter to yank Chris into a sitting position. 

“Wha—” Chris swallowed, tasting blood in his teeth and spitting before trying to talk again. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to save your life,” Peter responded, a look of almost shock as if he didn’t understand why this would be so hard to understand. His eyes glanced at the gaping chest wound bleeding all over the grass.

Chris laughed gravely. He’d lost too much blood. Even if he managed to make it back to his truck in time, he’d bleed out before he reached the hospital. “Why?” 

“We were friends once.” Peter said it quietly as if lost in some, maybe bitter-sweet, memory where Chris and Peter were the basketball stars of Beacon Hills high and close friends, before Chris was dragged into a life he didn’t want by his father, before Peter revealed his secret.

Before everything fell apart. 

“I’m not going to make it, Peter.”

“I’m not too late,” the werewolf commented, pulling the Hunter’s arm above his head, eyeing the veins before looking back at Chris with a curious look. “I can give you this, for old time’s sake. I can save your life as you did mine.” 

Chris actually stopped to think about it. He thought about Allison and how she needed him, now with her mother gone. He thought about his life and how it had always been about hunting werewolves and the Code but everything with his father had left him confused about his place in the world. He thought about the remaining Alphas and how he was the only Hunter left in Beacon Hills. 

Then he thought about how Allison was strong and could take care of herself, she had friends to guide her way and family outside the Hunter lifestyle. He thought about how he was sure the Hale pack would have things under control now. He thought about how tired he was, of Hunting and just living in general. His time was done and he had to accept that.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, even though his voice shook and it wasn’t as strong a threat as he meant it to be.

Peter stared, taken aback that any one would refuse the bite. It had only happened to Peter once, with Stiles, but Stiles wanted it and had refused, but Chris didn’t want it at all and that sound of truth in his heart confused him.

The werewolf ignored him, opening his mouth anyway, fangs elongating and hovering over the skin that was already growing pale. His friend had let him go, let him live even when his father demanded he kill Peter for his first test. He wasn’t about to let Chris die with that debt unpaid.

“If you’re still the Peter I knew, if he’s still in there, you won’t do this to me,” the Hunter pleaded, his voice growing weaker as he felt his life drain out of him. “Please, just give me this one time Peter, this one choice that was mine alone.”

Peter blinked and gently laid Chris’ arm down at his side, laying his hand down on the other’s chest, feeling for his heart beat and pulling him as close as possible to at least provide him with comfort as he died. 

He didn’t want to let go, honestly. Chris was a part of his life that was still untainted. When he was a child, when being a werewolf wasn’t important and he could be friends with a Hunter and not be afraid of getting attacked. When his entire life revolved around basketball and cookouts. 

“You think we could have remained friends in a different life?” Peter finally asked. 

“Possibly. Who knows…” he murmured, eyes closing. The werewolf bit his tongue, forcing his wolf down, the urge to save his friend and turn him. Chris opened his eyes slowly, as if it was a struggle. “There’s a—a song I heard, sounded like us, you know.  _You and me, we grew under a bad sun.”_

“Go to sleep Chris, the sun will be up again tomorrow.” 

That brought a weak smile to the Hunter’s face before it faded and he drifted again, his heart rate fading. As it grew fainter and fainter Peter closed his eyes, his hand balling up around the Hunter’s bloodied shirt. 

“It will be a better sun, our children can grow up under it,” he told him, though it was mostly to give himself some peace of mind, because he knew the Hunter wasn’t listening. 

Chris was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a response to some angsty art that I can no longer find.


End file.
